Agapé - Seiya x Usagi // Sailor Moon // Chapter Three

[mi_kami]

Agapé
Written by: Mikami

Chapter Three
The Red Stage

The sun rose on the day of the tournament, greeting the Moon Empire in its last hours of possession of its Princess. Usagi hadn’t slept and instead opted to watch the fiery orb cast its glow for the final time on her balcony terrace. Past the gilded palace walls, she stared into the city with a heavy heart. Though tiredness worked itself through her neck and shoulders, she felt wide-awake and restless. The terrible gnawing in her stomach grew but she kept steady vigil and wanted to remember everything the way it was now.

“My Lady,” said the voice of the chamber mistress. She sounded astonished to find the Moon Princess dressed in nothing but her night slip and silken robe, outside on the terrace.

“My Lady, please come inside. You may catch your death out here,” she exclaimed, grabbing a blanket. “And we can’t afford that, seeing as how you’re to be married to a ruler on Earth.”

Usagi said nothing when she felt the warmth of the blanket enfold her shoulders. She felt herself shudder-she hadn’t known it was that cold. The chamber mistress touched her cheek and almost recoiled.

“You’re like ice! Please, we must go in and get you ready.”

The unresponsive Moon Princess was brought to her feet and ushered inside from the chilly morning. She didn’t acknowledge the other three chambermaids as they approached and curtsied, to which the chamber mistress promptly ordered one of them to draw her a bath. The second one was made to prepare her garments and the third to notify Queen Serenity that her daughter would be ready within the hour.

The chamber mistress fussed over Usagi, chatting erratically about the tournament and the Earth citizens she’d seen. Palace gossip, for the most part, was kept below the surface but both the nobility and the royals weren’t ignorant of the whisperings. Usagi’s mind swam with the conversation her chamber mistress was apparently having with herself as she poured fragrant oils into the marble bathing pool.

Usagi had known that servants and other attendants sometimes peered into palace functions even when they weren’t taking care of the event themselves. As the chamber mistress helped her undress, she was boldly going on about how Earthen citizens had a different air around them. Some she sensed were brash and violent, while others seemed arrogant.

“Forgive my tongue, My Lady,” she said, as Usagi wordlessly stepped into the bath. “But I can’t imagine you married to any of those men.”

The Princess sank between the scatter of rose petals and tried to relish the water’s enveloping warmth. Closing her weary eyes, she attempted further to drown out the chamber mistress’ commentary on whom she thought looked the most dreadful.

“They’re primitive folk,” she continued. “Further proof are the weapons they’ve developed without the use of magia. I’ve never seen the battles but a close friend of mine-her step-brother’s fifth cousin, died in the front lines.”

The chamber mistress shook her head. “So young. He was barely eighteen when he was shot down. They say our twelfth garrison launched a siege on one of the Earth’s northern strongholds. But they had reinforcements from a nearby city-state-Crystal Tokyo, I think it was. Soldiers from there are heartless and brutal. Left almost no one alive.”

Her hands were covered in red petals when she lifted them from the water. Usagi rubbed a piece of the roses’ red velvet, recalling little of the details her chamber mistress was describing. She only remembered her father being iron-willed and refusing to surrender his assault on the Earthen stronghold. The battle resulted in many deaths as the twelfth garrison was practically wasted away at the doors.

“I heard Crystal Tokyo was among the states invited to the tournament,” her attendant stated, absently fetching a dry wrap.

Because Father realized so long ago that they were one of the more formidable opponents in Earth’s assembly, Usagi thought aimlessly. Father always loved the strong…

The chamber mistress stood by the bathing pool, clutching the dry wrap to her chest as if she was embarrassed. “I couldn’t help my curiosity, Princess, but I was looking for them,” she admitted. “Theirs was only a party of three.”

Last night there had been too many people to contemplate which states they hailed from; Usagi didn’t want to be reminded who among them she’d be taken back with. However, she had already accepted that she wouldn’t be granted any moment’s peace once the chamber mistress started relaying her gossip.

She thought about the scarlet woman and the possible business she must have had with the young man she watched so intently across the room. A chill raked uncomfortably down her spine, splitting the warmth of the scented water around her. Usagi didn’t remember seeing his face-just his eyes. She would never forget them and the way they seemed to burn.

Not azure, sapphire or turquoise, she discerned. But cobalt.

“We must hurry, Princess,” the chamber mistress pushed on. “Your mother will be expecting you.”

Usagi expelled a small sigh, choosing instead to wade a little more before the fussing woman badgered her again. She was still silent when she rose from the bath, taking the fragrant scent of flowers with her. The cold from the atmosphere enveloped her before she was taken in by the dry wrap. The chamber mistress wasted no time in ushering her back toward her bedroom, where the same three chambermaids now waited.

They flocked around the Moon Princess once she was seated at her vanity. Two pairs of hands took great care of her golden tresses, molding them expertly into two buns that sat atop either side of her head. They took extra effort to encourage waves and curls from the two locks of gold that flowed from the bottom of each bun. Above the Princess’ bangs, they placed an arrangement of pearls to compliment the crescent moon on her forehead: the visible mark of a Moon sovereign.

After a little rouge was applied to Usagi’s cheeks, the two chamber maids stood her up while the third brought forward her undergarments. The chamber mistress wasn’t far behind with a sweeping gown.

Every harsh lace tightened the corset and Usagi felt it was only another torture that brought her closer to her fate. Layers of petticoat followed to weigh down her petite frame. She lifted her arms as the gown was lowered around her form. It was the color of a lightest champagne, the closest to white. The elbow length sleeves released ruffled engageantes, trimmed with tiny opals. A simple, one-stone diamond pendant adorned her neck.

The elegant reflection in the middle of Usagi’s vanity mirror stared back at her unhappily. As she was being gift-wrapped, her mind reached a state of numbness where all other voices in her head were quieted down. All sound turned dull as she looked herself over-so royally attired…so trapped. Her mother chose this dress, wanting her daughter to look like the prize her father expressed to his enemies. Just another expensive jewel in a gilded contract.

The chamber mistress came up behind the Princess to place the final touch on their masterpiece. It was a veil of the same light champagne, studded with scattered gold. Its lengthy expanse covered her from head to waist and opaque enough to obscure her identity. The veil wouldn’t only hide her face as a tactic to make the contract more desirable, but also conceal the anger and sadness that crawled under her stony facade.

“You’re ready,” the chamber mistress said in hushed awe. The woman smiled proudly at their embellished Moon Princess and stepped back to admire their handiwork. She sent one chambermaid to alert the Queen at once.

“Your mother said it would be best to meet at the arena,” her attendant said. She touched the Princess gingerly on the shoulder and motioned toward the double doors.

Usagi refused to reply and instead proceeded forward by lifting her skirts. She exited her own chambers and continued down the vaulted palace halls. Every once in a while she would pass a scatter of servants, who took time to bow before the elegant vision that descended upon them.

Her stomach lurched when she approached the silver platform that would take her to the arena-a separate building altogether but still on the palace grounds. Usagi almost faltered when stepping up to the platform, in which the chamber mistress’ hand shot out to steady her quickly.

Usagi faced the line of maids and attendants who looked fondly up at her disappearing form. The elliptical markings along the platform glowed blue before cloaking her in a pillar of light. At her destination, the Princess was greeted by an arrangement of valets anticipating her arrival.

“Your Majesty,” said one, as he bowed. “Your Mother, the Queen, has already been seated and has been waiting for you. Please come with me.”

The Princess reluctantly followed, fully aware of the two armed guard that automatically situated themselves on either side of her. Their battalion moved down a soaring hall that eventually ended with a sloping staircase at the end. Winged horses of white stone guarded the entrance leading to a wide breadth of balcony that acted as a viewing terrace for its royal spectators.

Usagi’s veiled form was greeted by the grand sight that was the Moon palace’s arena. The prodigious building was cylindrical in nature and high atop was a vast domed ceiling, filled with decorated stone ridges and colorful glass. From the center of the dome’s oculus, shone a beam from the sun’s light, plunging down into the center of the circular, red arena below. Built along the curve of the stone walls was a tiered arrangement of spectator seats that lined its way around to make up the building’s first level. The second level was on a higher tier, the seating area boxed for the noble classes. The third and highest was the terrace balcony, where the royal family and their guard would be situated to watch the events.

The rush from the cheering crowd devoured her as soon as she stepped further down the balcony. The recognition of their Princess sent forth a new wave of appreciation for the tournament.

Usagi finally arrived at the railing where another platform held the abode of both Queen Serenity and members of her entourage. The hand of a valet helped her up the steps before she found her own seat beside her mother’s. Presently, the Queen was standing to address her subjects and the participating city-states of Earth once more.

“We were afraid you weren’t going to show up,” said Makoto, from two seats down.

The Moon Princess remained stiff, uttering, “The thought had crossed my mind.”

The tense grip on the arm of her chair was given a warm pat by Minako beside her.

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t because this would be boring without your usual commentary,” Princess Venus said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I don’t think you should expect any this time,” Usagi responded desolately.

Her mother’s redundant welcoming speech went in one ear and promptly flowed out the other as Usagi tried to occupy herself with anything but the crowd. But it was a useless feat when the Earth’s champions and their attendants began filing through the entrance to the arena.

Many feet below the building’s second and third tier, the participants were greeted with cheer and glory. Some accepted it wholeheartedly regardless of the war-torn past, while others were reluctant and a tad suspicious. The three Templars of Crystal Tokyo were the latter.

“Way bigger than I expected,” commented Yaten. Taiki and Seiya could tell their companion was thoroughly enthralled by the colossal sight but was trying not to show rapt interest.

“Yes,” Taiki agreed, swiveling his head around to take in the tiered architecture. “Reminds me of the amphitheatre in the old ruins back home…except a hundred times larger.”

“If they’re going to watch us hack away at each other, might as well be on a grand scale,” said Seiya nonchalantly.

Yaten tossed him a grin and continued forward.

One by one all city-states of Earth were given an introduction by Pellamas atop the third tier balcony and met with an eruption from the crowd. When the three representatives from Sagramor approached the edge of the red arena, Rion held his burly arms up to gladly acknowledge the seated spectators. His steel fist shot through the air as if in victory while he followed on the trail of his superiors, Balfour and Marrok.

Citizens of the Moon Empire were apt to regard when Crystal Tokyo was formally introduced as a competitor. Years of stories, gossip and rumor were memories shared by many as they looked down in earnest to catch a glimpse. Tales of the city-state’s alleged brutality and power was many a subject passed from commoner to noble during past times. One of the most resilient rumors involved Crystal Tokyo being the prime suspect in heading the closest attempt on Aristaeus’ life. Though the stories were plentiful and the details mostly embellished, the three Templars remained unfamiliar.

Their names were announced to the crowd and the royal entourage, and Seiya smiled when he caught Yaten subtly listening for any snarl in Pellamas’ introduction of them.

Both the silver and chestnut-haired Templars led the way toward the round arena where eight groups of three chairs were distributed evenly around the expansive circle. Seiya followed from behind, glad tournament rules stated that participants were allotted two individuals at their side for the duration of all fights.

High above on the third tier, Usagi felt herself lean forward slightly at the mention of Crystal Tokyo. She supposed that her chamber mistress could be blamed for her small spark of curiosity. The Princess cast her gaze upon the movement below, observing the sight of three ponytailed young men on their way to their station beside the arena. From her perch, it would have been easy to mistake them as looking alike if it weren’t for their different attires. Notably, the dark-haired Templar that stayed a step behind his two comrades, was garbed entirely in red. The button-less, sleek-fitting blazer he wore appeared austere with its high-necked, mandarin collar. His slacks, shoes and even leather gloves were of the same bloody crimson.

The uncomfortable sear of recognition split Usagi’s stomach. She had seen him the night before. Coupled with her chamber mistress’ gossip-mongering about Crystal Tokyo, a sense of dread trickled into her bloodstream.

Once the formal introductions were completed, the remaining participants found their seats at the arena’s side. Yaten and Taiki were situated just behind Seiya, with a clear, focused view of the upcoming matches.

The three Templars were of the same mind when they all had a chance to comprehend their unfathomable surroundings. At once, Pellamas’ voice drew their gazes upward to the balcony of royals as he elaborated the tournament details. The ambassador’s voice may as well have been dust to wind when Yaten’s amused tone drifted over Seiya’s shoulder.

“The Princess has finally proven her existence,” Yaten said, motioning to the faraway veiled figure on Queen Serenity’s right.

Seiya’s attention was already taking in the obscured Moon royal and her rigid posture.

Yaten’s voice turned snarky. “What do you think she’s hiding under there?”

“A nasty disfigurement,” Seiya grinned mercilessly. “Endymion’s going to have to marry that. Lord, think of the children.”

He heard an exasperated sigh being expelled from behind him and felt Taiki lean toward him.

“You’re already talking like you’ve won,” murmured their tallest companion.

“And I feel sorry for our poor bastard Prince already,” Seiya replied.

Before Pellamas stepped down from his perch, he led their attention to the very center of the arena. In the middle stood a small circle of ceremoniously attired pageboys, all facing outward and carrying with them a simple, rectangular case made of wood. Under the ambassador’s command, they broke formation and moved toward each of the eight participants.

Seiya rose from his seat to acknowledge the boy, who silently halted in front of him and gave a small bow. As if practiced many times, he and the other pageboys opened their wooden cases to reveal their precious contents. It now made sense that tournament rules stated there was to be no Earthen weapon in the Moon palace’s arena. Amongst the black velvet interior of the case, gleamed an elegant rapier. The sword winked at Seiya as he admired its unblemished blade. Its golden, swept hilt weaved intricately around the crosspiece. His gloved finger moved fondly along the middle and stopped at its very point.

“Your weapon, Master Templar,” the pageboy said, urging him to take it.

Seiya nodded his gratitude as his hand closed over the hilt and lifted it out. It was heavy and light at the same time-a strange feeling as he gripped it multiple times to get a feel for the sword. The pageboy closed the case and proceeded out of the arena’s boundaries with the rest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seiya spotted his seven opponents retrieving their own swords. Many of them stayed poker-faced after discovering the nature of their weapon. But two of them seemed visibly discomforted by the choice. The Templar also noticed, with a raised brow, that only four of the eight competitors were given a dagger to complement their sword.

“What did I say about this being a spectacle?” Seiya said back to Taiki and Yaten.

“That’s a clever handicap. It should make it more interesting,” Yaten replied, considering the absence of a dagger in Seiya’s arsenal.

“Looks like they’re expecting some bloodshed,” added Taiki. “And I think there will be.”

Seiya and Yaten followed Taiki’s pointed gaze to Gauvain across the arena. The delight on his face was almost maniacal as he gripped both rapier and dagger. He slashed the air around him in practice and thrust both blades forward in demonstration of his skill. The eerie grin he bestowed upon the Templars was both unsettling and irritating.

“No matter what the situation is, the odds always seem to be against us,” mused Taiki.

Seiya only smiled. “The very best of times.”

Taiki peered at his dark-haired companion and felt the corner of his mouth lift. He caught a glint of the same maniacal delight flash through Seiya’s eyes as he twisted the blade through the empty air in front of him.

Pellamas called to order the entire congregation as two valets appeared at the balcony rail on both ends of the royal party. While he lifted formal hands, both men on either side let loose two long, draping banners over the rail. Written on both were the names of the two competitors in the tournament’s first battle.

“How’s your literacy in Moon glyphs?” asked Taiki smugly from behind Seiya.

“Decent,” Seiya replied flatly, knowing full well that out of the three of them, Taiki was the most efficient in speaking, reading and writing the former enemy’s language.

He could hear the impish shrug in Taiki’s voice.

“Just making sure that you know it’s not your turn yet.”

Seiya glanced back at him sourly and took his seat, much to the entertainment of Yaten.

Only two participants remained standing after being called upon for the premier round. Gauvain anxiously stepped into the red circle of the arena, eyeing his opponent with visceral hunger. His name was Valmont, an aging but battle-hardened solider that hailed from the southern state of Laude. Valmont would seem arrogant to many that didn’t know him, but Seiya knew the old man had more than enough to back up his claims. And Laude had been a generous ally, providing Crystal Tokyo aid with an excellent air fleet in times of need. Though Seiya would have wanted to feel confident in Valmont’s chances against Gauvain, the cold sting of reality was not far behind.

The taunting look that Gauvain wore sat unpleasantly with Yaten-who frowned the moment Valmont met the Metalia agent in center ring. From the movement of their mouths, he could see the exchange of unkind words while they crossed swords briefly for acknowledgement.

“This isn’t a fair fight,” muttered Seiya, watching Valmont and Gauvain ready themselves.

“But they both got the luck of the draw by having a dagger and rapier,” Taiki said. “I hope you’re not ragging on him just because he’s old.”

Seiya shook his head. “It’s not that. Valmont’s sustained an injury in his right hand during the last battles with the Moon. Even though he’s ambidextrous with a weapon, his right is still slightly better than his left. That could be the deciding factor for this match.”

They saw Valmont’s right hand falter slightly before he transferred it to his left, letting his weaker hand defend with the dagger.

“Shit,” muttered Seiya. “His left hand better be up to the offense. If not, the dagger’s defense will just crumble.”

“Why didn’t they just send somebody else?” Yaten said.

“Because Valmont is the best Laude has to offer in classic sword combat,” was his comrade’s blunt reply.

The match had begun with the crowd’s enthusiastic roar. Gauvain and Valmont, with rapier and dagger thrust outward, circled one another in anticipated movement. To the Templars’ astonishment, Valmont struck first with an unexpected but mighty lunge toward Gauvain’s lower half. The Metalia agent barely had enough space to swerve his form and jump back slightly to avoid the vengeful, silver tip. He counter attacked immediately, parrying his blade toward Valmont’s left side. The old soldier caught the oncoming glint with his own riposte while gritting his teeth tightly.

The clash of blades was drowned out by the shouts and cheers; every movement and daring sword thrust was devoured by the crowd, eager to see more than just one sword swipe at the other.

The match and the arena were clear despite the veil Usagi wore over her head. She wasn’t blind either to the interest Minako took in the first fight, considering she had talked with the copper-haired man just the night before. The Moon Princess could also see many spectators rising from their seats to capture every block and attack each opponent made.

“He’s going to win,” Minako declared, seeing the tip of Gauvain’s sword rake spitefully past Valmont’s shoulder. The old soldier’s face winced tightly in pain, before whirling around to throw his weight into an irregular swipe.

Usagi saw the desperation in Valmont’s attack. It was neither graceful nor meticulously planned as his previous assaults against Gauvain. The copper-haired man knew this in spades and took advantage of his weaker, dagger hand by busying Valmont’s sword with his own. Then, in a moment too swift for Valmont to seize, Gauvain’s left dagger hand thrust tightly past his own shorter blade, therefore dismantling his defense in one foul swoop.

Valmont’s dagger clattered to the floor and with it joined a torrent of scarlet that dribbled over the sleeve of his jacket. His already injured wrist was punctured severely by Gauvain’s dagger and the rapier in his other hand was easily dispatched.

The crowd rose to its feet in loud hollers and calls as Valmont clutched his wrist in pain and staggered on his feet from the fresh wound staining his sleeve. A few feet away, Gauvain greeted the crowd’s enrapturing applause with both arms raised and rapier in hand, pointing skyward in the first victory of the tournament. He turned toward the balcony of royals, making it known with rigor that he was one step closer to Aristaesus’ contract.

The three Templars had foreseen the result of the match and Beryl’s gloating facade from across the arena didn’t help matters. Although, Taiki expected her reaction-one of Metalia’s weaknesses was pride. He observed Gauvain collecting the last of the crowd’s acclaim, before once more taking his seat with Beryl ringside.

Yaten spotted Seiya’s right arm subtly twitching under the red sleeve of his blazer. He craned to the side a bit and discovered his companion’s hand grasping the hilt of his own rapier, while the tip of his forefinger stroking the crosspiece ridge. The silver-haired Templar knew the habit wasn’t from nervousness, but excitement.

Every pair of eyes in the arena anxiously looked up to the next set of banners being loosened over the balcony rail. Yaten saw Seiya’s finger stop stroking.

“Not yet,” Yaten said, leaning back in his chair.

Beside the Templars, the champion from the state of Maze, stood up to meet his challenge. Pollux was a short warrior, middle-aged and boasted the most scars on his face than any in his Earthen province alone. One of his green eyes was rendered useless by a knife to the skull and had him with one foot in the grave. After surviving, he called it a miracle and made sure every soul he came across knew of his greatest badge of honor.

Pollux’s opponent was called from left side of the arena. Marquise was the youngest participant out of all eight that were present and hailed from the state of Ward Six. The lanky redhead was considered a genius and excelled in their ever-fledging science division. He was partly responsible for the formula used in the cyanide bullet rounds that Seiya kept stocked on himself at all times.

“Twenty bucks says Pollux is going to wipe the floor with his skinny ass,” said Yaten, nudging Taiki.

“And I’ll raise you another twenty that Marquise is not only going to win but prove that Pollux’s dead eye isn’t some good luck charm,” Taiki replied with a grin. He held out his hand and his companion took it in a firm shake.

“Whoever wins gets to buy me a drink when this is all over,” Seiya tossed back to them both.

Marquise and Pollux met in the center of the ring and their acknowledgement of each other was much warmer than the previous match. While Pollux had the aid of both dagger and rapier, Marquise had to place his trust in a single sword.

The second set commenced immediately when both opponents stuck at each other at once. There was no room for circling one another; both were anxious to get to it quickly.

Pollux never underestimated those he fought, especially a boy genius like Marquise. The youth was both swift in mind and body, causing him to dodge his single rapier with all the careful flexibility of a panther. His parries were fast and tight, barely allowing Pollux to get a sword or dagger through his offence in his first breath of attack.

“Good start,” commented Seiya, his eyes following every movement. “I just hope he doesn’t run out of steam.”

“He will,” Yaten declared. “You can’t just lay out all your cards on the table in one go.”

“Or else you’re down forty bucks?” said Taiki with amusement.

“Shut up.”

Pollux found a window of opportunity as Marquise’s attacks slowed at the tail end of his first burst of energy. When Marquise swung high with the point of his sword toward his opponent’s forehead, Pollux saw through his offence by striking him on a lower level. His sword nicked Marquise in the side, a small scratch to let him know that he planned on winning.

Marquise widened the distance between them with a knowing smile, realizing that dragging his attacks into one long string could still be broken easily. Instead, his new strategy focused on Pollux’s dagger hand.

Seiya considered both competitors in the arena as possible opponents for the second round, so he studied the two of them. Although if he voiced his thoughts, Taiki would just comment that he was getting ahead of himself and that his overconfidence could work against him in the first round still to come. Seiya wasn’t worried while doing the math; the only ones left were Rion, Liodas of Yeifa and Cyprian from the Promontory. Two of the three he had spared with before.

Two minutes into the match felt like a long time as Pollux was able to corner Marquise at the very edge of the red circle. The younger man was keeping his back foot anchored in desperation while trying to fend off Pollux’s sword and dagger combination.

“Marquise a good actor,” Taiki uttered matter-of-factly. “Playing defenseless like that…”

Yaten gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

“He has him.”

As if right on cue, the redheaded youth brought back his initial burst of speed after tricking Pollux into thinking he had it made. The older man’s face was bewildered one moment and then cringing in pain the next when Marquise knocked the dagger out of his hand and laid the point of his sword on his forearm. Pollux had no time to retrieve his shorter weapon when Marquise kicked the dagger to the opposite side of the ring. As Pollux made the mistake of casting his eyes down toward his opponent’s foot, Marquise planted the blunt hilt of his rapier to Pollux’s head. The effect was painful and dizzying, as Pollux dropped to his knees.

The victor of the second match was met with equal praise and cheer from the spectators. After giving the crowd a low, sweeping bow, Marquise sauntered up to a groggy Pollux and gave him a hand. After getting to his feet, Pollux shook his head in defeat but gave his opponent a hearty pat on the back. He was able to retrieve his fallen dagger from the floor and gave it to Marquise, who accepted it as aid for the next round.

“That was a sly trick but it could have cost him the win,” said Seiya. “But he pulled through and Yaten is forty bucks poorer.”

He smiled widely, turning around in his chair to see Yaten grumble and reach into his trench coat pocket for bills. A self-satisfied smirk sat on Taiki’s lips when his comrade grudgingly forked over the cash.

Up on the balcony of the Moon entourage, the royals were just as pleased at the sport like their counterparts on the first two tiers. Pellamas was trying to engage Queen Serenity in a conversation that included possible matches for the second round even if the first was only half over. The Queen remained reserved but tense, while secretly looking upon the first two victories with a scrutinizing eye. Gauvain was resourceful and merciless, while Marquise was young and headstrong. She thought of her daughter continuously but dared not look in her direction, for the strong mask of the Queen would shatter and the weakness of emotion would be laid bare to the arena.

Usagi sat in her seat in chiseled form. The first two wins of the tournament left her cold. Even if she didn’t want to pay attention, the thought of her future wellbeing forced her to narrow down the possibilities. She knew now the Earthen states of Laude and Maze wouldn’t be her new home. However, the Princess received no comfort or relief and believed she would find neither in the coming matches.

Minako had learned to leave her Princess’ bleak mood alone but it didn’t stop her from gaining new intrigue in the events. She took to discussing the competitors and their fighting prowess with Princess Jupiter, who fancied the art of combat herself. Even the conventional Princess Ami of Mercury was finding a smidgen of enjoyment.

“You only find it tolerable because we’re so high up, you can’t see any of the carnage,” said Rei bluntly. The Princess of Mars was sitting at the edge of her seat, trying her hardest to see everything she could.

“There isn’t supposed to be any carnage, Rei,” Ami replied, wincing. “It’s an event to promote sportsmanship and good will to kick start a relationship with Earth.”

“But those people love to fight. It’s in their very blood, and if they spill some down there, at least it’s not ours,” Rei said with a careless flick of her hand.

Makoto looked thoughtful as she watched the next banners being set on the railing. The third set was about to be announced.

“It doesn’t matter because it’s entertaining nonetheless,” she said. “It’s one thing to watch our warriors fight with theirs, but to see them match up against each other is on a level of its own.”

There were two matches down and Usagi noted that Crystal Tokyo still hadn’t been called to combat. Her close friends and personal guard probably thought she wasn’t attentive throughout the first round due to her solitary brooding. After all, they took to having conversations between themselves on who was still left to fight.

At Pellamas’ command, Usagi watched the valets release the two banners over the railing. At once she saw every spectator in their seat lean over to read the names for the third set. Usagi’s cerulean eyes swam through nameless crowd and searched for movement amongst the four last competitors of round one. Her gaze landed on the red Templar.

He rose from his seat slowly to the sound of the raucous crowd, taking with him his single rapier. He wasn’t blessed with the advantage of a dagger but that handicap didn’t seem to bother him. She saw him turn around to say some last words to his two companions before entering the arena. His opponent was introduced as Liodas, from the state of Yeifa in the west.

Down in the ring, Kou Seiya met his adversary in a man who was once labeled a pacifist.

“Were any of your brothers not available?” Seiya asked Liodas, upon meeting him in the center.

The blonde and taller Liodas gave the Templar an amused smirk. Raising his sword and dagger toward Seiya, his feet crossed one over the other in cautious rhythm.

“One of them passed away last winter,” he said, lining Seiya up with the point of his sword.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Seiya replied, remaining relaxed. “And the other?”

“Just indisposed.”

Seiya nodded conversationally, his stance nothing like Liodas’ ready form.

“That’s rotten luck,” the Templar said. “You pacifists don’t even like to spar.”

His comment was met with a laugh as Liodas suddenly rushed forward in a blur of height and steel. The clash of three entwining blades created electrifying tremors that sped up Seiya’s arms. The crowd’s roars disappeared into nothing and all that existed were him, his opponent and their weapons.

“I never said I didn’t like to spar,” Liodas replied, pushing his weight forcefully into their bladed deadlock. “I just never liked war.”

Seiya’s grin widened as he broke the hold, withdrawing his rapier lightning fast before assailing Liodas’ sword hand with a series of distracting parries.

“To each his own,” Seiya laughed.

Liodas found it interesting how his opponent was maintaining a casual air despite the heavy situation. Seiya kept coming at him, thrust after thrust, swipe and parry-not out of desperate defense or offense but for pure enjoyment. Liodas’ backed up and sidestepped a lethal swing of blade, wanting to escape the dangerous range. A subtle rip rang through the air between them and Liodas looked down momentarily to see a tear appear across his chest.

“You learn a few things on the warfront,” said Seiya simply.

The blonde man nodded toward him. “Glad to know you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” Liodas slashed long and low at Seiya’s feet but was met with air.

He continued, “This would be terribly boring if you did.”

“True…because honestly, you’re not giving me much to go on in order to take you seriously,” Seiya flashed his teeth tauntingly.

The smile on Liodas’ face vanished almost instantly and Seiya’s attacks were met with more force.

Ringside, Yaten was rolling his eyes.

“He’s encouraging him,” offered Taiki, who couldn’t conceal his mirth any longer.

“Yeah, there’s nothing like an insult to encourage rage-fueled competition,” Yaten said flatly.

Liodas shot forward with a powerful thrust, almost catching Seiya in the arm. But Seiya’s form had whirled speedily to the side of his dagger hand, knocking the shorter blade cleanly from Liodas’ grip. Catching the dagger in his own hand, the Templar put measured steps between them and pointed both weapons toward his confounded adversary.

Seiya fingered the stolen dagger reverently. “It is pretty nice to have two.”

His blonde-haired opponent wasn’t amused this time and rushed at him head on and sword out. For one who was once labeled a pacifist, Seiya found it odd that he was so easy to irritate. Liodas had bared his teeth, frustration burning in his angered gaze as his blade swiped at Seiya from the side. He wasn’t thinking strategically anymore, nor was winning the tournament on his mind, just landing a hit on the Templar was the only thought left.

The Moon Princess, on the balcony terrace, knew the match was over. The red Templar had just been playing with him and she could tell from the way he moved, he hadn’t meant to take the fight seriously from the very beginning. Usagi almost felt humiliated for the blonde competitor as she watched him hasten toward his defeat. The dark-haired youth batted Liodas’ blade away, causing him to teeter off balance. The next attack had him on the floor.

In the ring, Seiya felt the burn of Gauvain’s stare on his back as he greeted the forum’s applause. Lifting his rapier and a new dagger, Seiya locked gazes with him in mutual challenge. Shifting his cobalt eyes to the left, he seized Beryl’s contempt of his victory with a nasty grin. Adrenaline sped through Seiya’s bloodstream, roaring at him for more as he made his way back to where Taiki and Yaten sat.

“You didn’t have to embarrass him,” said Taiki.

“Could’ve been worse,” Seiya shrugged. “I could’ve just stepped aside and let him fall on his face but I didn’t.”

Yaten smirked and let out a laugh. “You’re an asshole. A thoughtful one, but still an asshole.”

The silver-haired Templar looked over his shoulder to find Rion equally amused with the result of the third set. Liodas had picked himself off the floor and was dragging disheartened feet back toward his seat. His two attendants from Yeifa weren’t in good spirits either; one of them chose to exit the arena just as Liodas sat down.

There were no banners draped over the balcony rail for the last set. Instead, Rion’s name and the state of Sagramor were introduced by Pellamas. The burly solider eagerly leapt from his seat, toting his rapier in a rather awkward manner toward center ring. Cyprian from the Promontory awaited him in the middle.

Compared to Rion, the tattooed Cyprian was leaner around the torso. There wasn’t much of a height difference except for the gelled structure of Cyprian’s hair and Rion’s lack thereof. It was obvious to any observer that he felt more at home with a sword than his Sagramor opponent, which by many was already considered a benefit. Between Rion’s larger hands, the rapier was akin to a fancy toothpick rather than a weapon.

Rion gave the Templars a nod before galloping toward Cyprian. His battle cry was loud and deep-a threatening rumble from his very gut. His form with the sword was incorrect but Seiya had a feeling that didn’t matter to his friend as long as Cyprian was clobbered.

Swords clashed in a mess of blade and hilt but Rion’s steel hand came from under his opponent and knocked him clean off his feet. The rapier in Rion’s other hand fell to the floor, forgotten, as the burly soldier chose to fight in the only way he knew how. He lifted Cyprian off his feet like a ragdoll and tossed him effortlessly across the ring, his opponent’s sword flung in the opposite direction. The look of pain etched deeply in Cyprian’s face the moment he landed on his shoulder with a sickening crack.

“That was less than a minute,” said Yaten, wide-eyed.

“About thirty seconds exactly,” added Taiki.

Seiya watched Rion put his giant arms up in victory while Cyprian had to be heaved off the floor by his attendants. The crowd exploded in excitement, seeing Rion’s fearlessness inspired them to clamor at the top of their lungs. As Rion crossed the ring back to his seat, he gave Seiya a toothy grin and pointed back and forth between himself and the Templar. Seiya received the friendly challenge in silence, telling him again that if they were to meet each other in the next round, neither would hold back. Rion was pleased.

The Moon Princess looked over the victors of the first round and felt her throat constrict. The list of competitors was thinning out and her time was growing shorter.